CHAPTER ELEVEN: Truth & Tears
824 Words
Sophia didn’t go home after school.
She wandered until her feet ached, her mind a foggy mess of memory and emotion. Eventually, she found herself in the park near the old church, the one where the sky always felt too big, as if it could swallow her whole. The rusted swings creaked in the breeze, each groan sounding like a sigh too tired to care.
She sat down on the middle swing, gripped the chains, and let the wind sting her face like punishment.
The video.
Jane’s eyes were filled with betrayal.
Her reflection, no, Abegail’s, with a knife buried deep in her back.
It all played again and again in her head, like an unwanted film she couldn’t pause.
You stabbed her.
You betrayed her.
You have done this before.
She pressed her palms to her eyes, wishing the whispers would stop.
Then...
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
Vincent’s voice sliced through the fog.
Sophia didn’t look up. “I didn’t want to see anyone.”
“I figured,” he said gently.
He stepped into her line of sight, hair tousled by the wind, eyes clouded but steady. He didn’t try to force a smile this time.
Without asking, he sat on the swing beside her. They swayed slowly, two ghosts sharing the same silence.
The only sound between them was the soft creak of the chains and the far-off rustling of trees.
“I told you I'd been dreaming about you,” Vincent finally said, voice low. “But I didn’t tell you everything.”
Sophia gripped the chain tighter, her knuckles pale. “What else is there?”
He took a breath. “In the dreams… There were versions of us. Ones where we were happy. Where you loved me back.”
Sophia’s eyes stood on the ground, her heart thudding harder.
“But then,” he continued, “something always went wrong.”
She turned her head just slightly, catching his glance.
“You always left me,” he said. “For Jay.”
Her chest tightened.
“In one life, you told me straight out. In another, you vanished without a word. And in one… You didn’t leave at all. You stayed, but you were never mine.”
Sophia’s breath caught.
“And in that life,” Vincent said more quietly, “you cheated.”
Her voice was barely a whisper. “With whom?”
Vincent looked away. “Someone who trusted you. And after that, Jay and I… we weren’t just rivals. We were enemies. And you… ended up alone.”
Sophia’s eyes welled with tears.
“I think I remember that one,” she whispered. "Just glimpses. But I felt it. The guilt.”
Vincent turned back to her. “You stabbed Abegail in the back.”
“In the dream,” she said quickly, her voice cracking. “Not in real life. I would never...”
“But you did hurt Jane,” he said gently.
Sophia couldn’t hold it back anymore. The tears came fast, blurring the sky and the trees and everything in between.
“I didn’t mean to,” she sobbed. “I didn’t know how to stop it. I didn’t even know it was happening until it already had.”
“I know,” Vincent said, his voice softer than ever. “Because I didn’t know how to stop it either. The pattern. The repeating. The loss of you.”
From his pocket, he pulled out a small pendant, a chipped silver moon.
“I’ve had this since the first dream. I think it followed me here. Each time I see you, you’re wearing one too.”
Sophia reached out, fingers trembling, and took it. The moment it touched her skin, it felt familiar. Warm. Like it carried a heartbeat of its own.
It belonged to her. In another life. In all of them.
Vincent stood, brushing off his jeans.
“I’m not mad at you,” he said. “I just needed you to know the truth.”
Sophia looked up, her voice shaking. “And now what?”
He gave her a small, tired smile. “Now you have the chance to choose differently.”
Then he turned and walked away, leaving her on the swing, cold, crying, clutching the moon.
That night, Sophia dreamt again.
She stood in the garden, lush, blooming, timeless.
Jay was there, leaning against a tree. His posture was casual, but his eyes carried a lifetime. He looked older. Sadder. Like he’d seen her die too many times.
“I messed everything up,” Sophia whispered.
Jay didn’t answer.
“But I’m tired of the same ending. I want to make it right.”
Still, he said nothing.
So she stepped closer.
“I’m ready to stop hurting the people I love. I’m ready to stop running.”
Finally, he turned toward her, his expression unreadable.
“Then stop dreaming,” he said.
- Writer
